


Thus is Winged Cupid Painted Blind

by Thia (Jennaria)



Series: Slow Growing Things [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Do not post to another site, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-18
Updated: 2002-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennaria/pseuds/Thia
Summary: Maybe it'll be easier with a blindfold? Sam wants to find out.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Slow Growing Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696261
Kudos: 6





	Thus is Winged Cupid Painted Blind

**Author's Note:**

> My first hobbitsmut, from way way back in the day!

"A _blindfold_?" Frodo didn't laugh, but Sam heard the tell-tale catch in his voice and saw the twinkle that danced in his eyes.

"Yes, sir," Sam said stoutly, though his stomach was all aflutter. If Frodo would agree to this, agree and not ask _why_ \--

"I can see I shall have to stop inviting Merry Brandybuck over so often," Frodo said, the suppressed laughter silvering his voice and making Sam's stomach flutter twice as much. "He and Pippin are giving you ideas."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but if it had been Mr. Merry gave me the idea, he and Mr. Pippin would be waiting out in the hall for me to put the blindfold on, so they could pounce and you not know the difference unless you counted hands!"

Sam had meant his tone to be scathing, but Frodo fell back among the white linen of his pillows and lost his battle with laughter. "Oh, Sam, Sam," he managed at last. "Very well, I shan't accuse you of perverted Tookish notions again." His fingers stroked up Sam's thigh, suggesting perverted notions of a simpler sort.

"Blindfold," Sam said firmly, catching Frodo's hand in his before it got too far.

Frodo tugged at his hand, trying to free it, then sighed. "All right, Sam. If you insist."

Of course Frodo didn't have a blindfold lying about -- Mr. Bilbo had lived alone most of his life, and never had much of a mind for either the lads or the lasses (although Sam had heard more than a few whispers about dwarves), so he'd not left any such foolery for them to use. Sam finally had to fold up one of Frodo's pocket-handkerchiefs and use that. Frodo leaned forward to allow Sam to knot the ends behind his head, then lay back on his pillows again, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. Sam sat back on his heels. He hadn't really planned how to manage matters past this.

He and Mr. Frodo hadn't been lovers very long. Frodo had quickly learned that a gentle touch just _here_ , or a particular tone of voice, made Sam's knees weak -- and one look of blue fire and Sam couldn't even think. But Sam had not yet managed to find out how to reciprocate, how to make Frodo moan and twist and beg for more. It was the eyes, to Sam's mind, Mr. Frodo's deep blue eyes. They'd made him think of violets and deep water even before Frodo kissed him the first time. Now they cleared his mind of everything except the feel of Mr. Frodo's hands on his skin.

Thus the blindfold. This time, Sam meant to explore Frodo without any distractions, even from Frodo himself. If only he could decide where to begin.

Sam hesitated for a long, long moment. Part of him wanted to strip Frodo of all his clothing immediately, glut himself on Frodo's naked skin while Frodo couldn't squirm away or protest about wanting to do something to _Sam_ instead. Part of him wanted to take things far more slowly, take off Frodo's clothing piece by piece, see how sensitive his nipples were when scraped through the linen of his shirt, or whether keeping his trousers on would help Frodo control himself any more.

"If you don't do _something_ soon, Samwise Gamgee, then I shall pounce you, blindfold or no blindfold."

"You do and I'll have to tie you down, Mr. Frodo," Sam said calmly, and bent to kiss Frodo.

He'd never grow tired of this -- of the softness of Frodo's lips, opening to warm and wet and a teasing tongue. His mind blurred, as if he drank wine instead of Frodo's kiss, and he broke the kiss just in time to stop Frodo's automatic attempt to turn them over. Not this time, sir, he thought with a fond smile. This time, let your Sam show you a few things.

He backed off a little bit, enough to get his hands in between them, and began to unbutton Frodo's shirt. Frodo made a puzzled sound, and raised his hands to help. Sam batted them away. "Just lie back, sir."

"Easy for you to say," Frodo said. "You can see."

Sam chuckled at Frodo's disgruntled tone, and obligingly distracted Frodo by dusting kisses on the skin he bared. One to Frodo's cheek, one to his neck, careful dab of tongue to the hollow of his throat -- Frodo tasted like salt and sweet milk and the flower-scented faint vestiges of soap from his bath this morning -- one kiss for each button he'd undone, down Frodo's breastbone almost to his belly...

"SAM!"

"Yes, sir?" Sam sat back on his heels again, and blessed the blindfold that prevented Frodo from seeing the self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Don't--" Frodo bit his lip hard, then took a deep breath. "Stop _teasing_ , Samwise."

"No more teasing than you've done to me, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo groaned. "I'm doomed."

But he settled back against the pillows and the coverlet, allowing Sam to tug his shirt from his trousers without struggle, not even giggling as Sam stroked the soft, smooth skin of his waist with gentle, featherlight touches. Sam nodded to himself, then turned his attention to Frodo's trousers. Belt first, then the buttons and the flap. The process teased him as much as Frodo, his knuckles bumping into Frodo's hardening arousal as he worked the buttons. At last Sam tugged Frodo's pants down his legs, carefully maneuvering them so they didn't tangle with anything important. Frodo raised his hips at Sam's direction, murmuring happily at the cool air on his legs.

Sam had to stop again. It would be so easy - just strip himself off and lie down again with Frodo, allow the heat in his own belly to take control. But that would finish it too quickly, to his mind. Not this time. This time, he'd _show_ Frodo --

He knelt again by Frodo before the frown crinkling that fair brow could become more complaints, and began his explorations.

Frodo's face, first. Half-hidden under the linen of the blindfold, but enough skin left for Sam's purposes. Pale from lack of exposure to the sun, and smooth where Sam's had been toughened by exposure to wind and rain, his cheeks soft as flower petals under Sam's exploring fingers. Lips -- Frodo opened his mouth and captured Sam's finger, sucking on it mischievously. Sam's breath caught, and he swallowed hard. Oh, no, Mr. Frodo, he thought, you don't get the advantage so easily! He drew his finger free slowly, and drew it down Frodo's breastbone to draw little rings around Frodo's nipples, bringing them erect with the faint chill of the damp touch.

Frodo's breath caught in his turn. "Sam--"

Sam silenced him with a gentle kiss, the faintest brush of his tongue against Frodo's lips, then moved over to brush his mouth against Frodo's jaw, his ear -- Frodo shivered at the feel of Sam's tongue there -- then down Frodo's neck to the junction of shoulder and neck. This place he'd learned the first time he'd lain with Frodo, and once again Frodo stiffened as Sam suckled at the spot. Frodo's hands came up to Sam's head, holding him there. Sam could feel them trembling in his hair.

After a long moment, Sam backed off, despite the silent begging of Frodo's hands. He had more of Frodo's body to explore.

Down Frodo's chest: the shirt and waistcoat had to come off now, and Frodo silently helped him, moving where Sam's hands directed him. Frodo's skin shone even paler here where his clothing had protected it, without even the slight sun that had darkened Frodo's face on his long wanderings around the Shire. Pale arms, pale belly, pale chest... he traced their lines with the same oh-so-gentle fingertips. Too thin, Sam thought with a frown. Mr. Frodo needed to get more exercise, aye, and more food too.

" _Sam_!" Frodo bucked under the tortuous lightness of Sam's touch.

Sam rolled over, pinning Frodo beneath his weight. Frodo instantly stilled, a begging whimper welling from his throat. Sam smiled despite himself: he could feel Frodo's muscles quivering, nipples tight and erect against Sam's chest, and the heat of Frodo's erection close to Sam's thigh. Just a little more, master, Sam thought, and bent to kiss Frodo again.

Frodo kissed him back desperately. When Sam finally broke from the kiss, he was shivering nearly as badly as Frodo. It would be easy, so easy to move over only a little -- but Sam had promised himself how it would end, before ever he put Frodo's blindfold on. He backed away again, reassuring Frodo with touches on chest and belly and legs that he hadn't really gone anywhere. At last he knelt between Frodo's thighs. He licked his lips, bent down, and took his first taste of his master.

Frodo stilled utterly. One hand came up to rest on Sam's shoulder. "Sam... oh, Sam, you don't have to."

"I know, sir," Sam said, his voice hoarse in his own ears, then bent and took Frodo in his mouth again.

Not unpleasant. He'd heard the lasses complain when they didn't know anyone was listening, calling it _bitter_ or worse, but Mr. Frodo tasted of salt and musk without any bitterness. He suckled at it as he might a lolly, taking it deep enough his jaw began to ache. Then he heard Frodo's cry of pleasure, and forgot about his aching jaw.

It took far less time than he'd expected -- he must have teased poor Mr. Frodo farther than he'd meant. Within only a few minutes, Frodo thrust up against Sam's hands, moaning as he lost control entirely. Sam swallowed, caught half by surprise, then sat up and wiped his mouth, heart swelling proudly in his breast.

Frodo was already moving, pulling off the blindfold as he squirmed around the bed and pulled Sam down on top of him. "You, Sam, you," Frodo panted, words hardly coherent as he attacked Sam with hands and mouth, knowing touch and knowing tongue. Sam collapsed back onto the coverlet, surprised at the fire that shot through his veins: he hadn't realized exactly how aroused he'd gotten in tending to Frodo's arousal. In very little time, Frodo had him crying out in his turn.

When at last they both lay in a pile of sodden satisfaction, Sam slowly realized Frodo's shoulders were shaking with laughter. "Sir?" he said, then, more quietly, "Frodo?"

"A blindfold," Frodo said, voice still rich with amusement. "Sweet, shy Sam. "

Not about 'shy', Sam thought in mild irritation. It had been about -- about -- well, he didn't rightly know what it was about, but not about feeling shy. "If you didn't like it--"

Frodo's arms tightened around him. "Of course I liked it, silly hobbit. But next time, I want to see your face. "

Next time! Sam smiled, and didn't care if Frodo _could_ feel it against his shoulder. "Yes," he said.

– end –


End file.
